A Phoenix Never Dies
by NightHunterDeath
Summary: Alive before the Void Century, cursed with immortality long before he ate his fruit, Marco the Phoenix, once known as Harry Potter in the early ages in which no one remembers anymore, travels the ever changing world in which he is an outcast. A Harry is Marco fanfiction. Immortal Harry. Immortal Marco. Pairings: Ace x Marco or Ace x Harry!Marco, whichever you prefer.
1. Chapter One: Irony

**A Phoenix Never Dies**

 **Summary: Alive before the Void Century, cursed with immortality long before he ate his fruit, Marco the Phoenix, once known as Harry Potter in the early ages in which no one remembers anymore, travels the ever changing world in which he is an outcast. A Harry is Marco fanfiction. Immortal Harry. Immortal Marco. Pairings: Ace x Marco or Ace x Harry!Marco, whichever you prefer**.

 **A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but turned into a short story containing four chapters. There are no more chapters. This has been completed and this was my idea. If you want to use it, you may. Just pay some respect in an author's note or something for me is all I ask or if you find a story like this send it my way because I would like to read it. If you are writing a story based off this, please send me a link because I would love to read it.**

 **On with the show.**

 **Chapter One: Irony**

Fate has a cruel sense of humor, it is cruel and it is whole. It takes and takes and doesn't ever give back. And when it does give something in exchanged for what it has taken, the reward isn't something that one would want.

Fate had taken everything from him. It took his innocent, his childhood, his teenage years, and his family. It took away his reasons, his abilities. In return Fate gave him power he did not want, it gave him a destiny which he did not need. It gave him abilities and knowledge, gave him his so-called 'great destiny'. It gave him the curse of not aging. Not dying. And out of all the 'gifts' Fate had given him, he wished with all his being immortality was not one of them.

It wasn't noticeable at first. They all thought he was just aging well. It wasn't until he hit age sixty that they started to realize what was going on. He wasn't aging, he was still as young looking as he was when he was twenty five. He could still move fast and could still do the things young people could do. When they did tests on his bones and his life span, he was still twenty five no matter how many years had passed and there was no definite answer to when he would die. His friends grew afraid, shielding away from him. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, he couldn't believe after all he had done he was cursed in this manner.

He watched as his wife grew gray hair, and the light in her eyes faded. He was the one to bury her, and it didn't matter how many years had passed. He continued to bring flowers, standing in front of it like he was waiting for something. He had no idea what he was waiting for though. He continued to watch over his kids, watched as his own had kids and their kids had kids and so on. He buried his children, and his children's children. He could do nothing as the people he fought with, endured with, aged and died, leaving him behind. He buried them like he did his family. And when they were dead, when no one was there anymore to keep an eye on him, he found out the horrible truth of the people he _thought_ were his friends.

Afterwards, when no one really remember his face and no one really knew him, when there was no one left in the world that was there for him, he tried to kill himself.

He lost count of how many times he tried to join his loved ones in the afterlife, he stopped counting when he reached five hundred eons back. He tried poisoning himself, overdosing. He set himself aflame, hanged himself, his wrist covered with deep gashes never to heal. He threw himself off the highest tower and drowned himself in the same day. He starved himself for a year, every moment not bringing him closer to death than the last. If his heart would just give out for one second, just a sign that he was closer to the end than ever before, he wouldn't hurt himself so much. But his heart never faltered, never weakened, it pumped blood through his veins no matter how much he bled out and he could tell, he was nowhere near the end of his life. And maybe the reason he tried to kill himself was more out of the want, no _need_ , to end this torture than anything else. He just so desperately wanted to close his eyes and not for them to open ever again.

But his eyes never closed.

His heart never stopped.

And he continued to live.

Only the pain was constant.

Every time he tried to kill himself, every time he tore his limbs off or broke every bone in his body, his body would repair itself. Each muscle, each cell regenerating and stitching itself together again. It mattered not what he did to himself, didn't matter how many scars he would have had if he was normal, his body would return to the way it was before, all marks erased like they had never been there.

When he reached the age of three hundred and fifty, when there was no one left to whisper about his name and his doings in the past, when he still looked to be in his twenties, his mind broke and he laughed like a madman. He laughed like there was nothing else to do, like there was no tomorrow to bother with. He laughed at his situation, he laughed about the curse that had been thrust upon him. He laughed at the irony of his life.

He, who had no goal in mind but to live for the next day, to get away from the people he was forced to call family; he, who didn't believe he would make it passed the age of seventeen, lived as the people who had goals and ambitions died. His archenemy who craved immortality died before him who never wanted immortality was granted it.

Fate was a cruel bitch.

Centuries passed like decades at first, each day agonizingly slow and a heartbreaking reminder that he was alone in this world. He had come to terms that he could not off himself no matter how hard he tried, and so with that realization in mind he tried to move on with this pathetic excuse of a life. He tried to make new friends and fall in love. And he did, until it all came to an end. The fact was people, _friends_ , died, relationships grew apart with secrets, and in an immortal life nothing was constant besides his own heartbeat and pain. So instead of going through the pain of losing anyone close to him ever again he threw himself into his studies. He had long learned that he had a photographic memory, and with the way the world was tearing itself apart, he decided that he would learn everything there was for when a time when there was nothing left of this civilization. He didn't particularly like thinking that the world would die and he would continue to live all alone, but he had always been a realist and not even the thought of being alone would stop that.

He learned the languages of his time, learned both sides of the world from which he came from. He wouldn't allow himself to be ignorant in any world, whether it be this one or the next. He learned many things (some noticeably: architecture, art & design, biology, Psychology, civil engineering, conflict resolution, economics, environmental studies, finance, gunsmithing, healthcare, hospitality management, human resources and services, journalism, law, liberal studies, management and marketing, mechanical engineering, music, medical billing and coding, nutrition, nursing, organizational leadership, philosophy, physics, public health, social work, etc.) and then he went to the world he knew most didn't know about. He learned all there was for if this world was ending, and he did survive, someone might need to guide the next generation. Someone had to have the answers they were looking for, and he wouldn't allow magic to just end. He couldn't, because while he might no longer practice it, the idea it was gone hurt more than he wanted to admit. Even if he forsaken his own.

And the civilization of his day did end. It ended in fire, everything burning in flames as they fought and fought and repeated the mistakes of their elders. Before everything went up in flames he grabs his finances and had it transferred into golden bars. If he was going to live in a new world after this one was over, he wasn't going to allow himself not to be prepared.

The war took everything from the people. It took their lives, their hope, family, friends, belongings, and their identities. The world moved on, and he watched not only his former name die out but also his family line.

When he turned five hundred and another war had taken thousands of lives he could no longer bare the name he was born with. He threw it away to be lost in the travel of time, he knew he would never hear the cursed name from anyone lips ever again. It was after he had thrown his name away that he realized that names didn't really matter. You could go by John or Zackary, George or Fred, Julie or Vicky and it would mean nothing. A name did not define you, it did not make you the person you are. He learned that names where just titles to people who wanted to be different from people, needed to be defined because they had nothing else to define them.

After the fire came the explosion of the sun. Everyone, the animals, the people, the plants and water were burned up, the world in chaos. But at the end of the day he still stood in the pile of rocks, freezing and hungry and alone. Always alone.

He learned to deal with the loneliness, learned that while he couldn't deal with the death of those he knew he was fine with the solitary. He lost count of the days, no longer being able to tell day from night and from a year to a decade. But after endless darkness for such a long time, the world exploded into light and the world started to rebuild itself.

The world became flooded, islands being the only thing that lets inhabitants live outside of the ocean. Many things happened in the short span of time. Civilization rebuilt itself, the world was more corrupted than ever. People not of this world or time came and tried to help, brought their advance technology with them and was betrayed by the ones they assisted. But before they were killed off, they had spread their line out and set the secret of their history in stone, a language he was honored to learn from the creators. He never bothered to bring about what they wanted, for it wasn't him that needed to do so. And the world wasn't ready yet, he didn't know if it would ever be.

They gave him a gift though, a map to the gift I guess he should say. He searched the land and soon found himself on what was to be known as the Red Line. There, where evil would take place in the future, was a tree much like the old legend of Eve and Adam. And there, on the highest branch, was a fruit they had left him. It was shaped like a heart, blue the base color and golden swirls covering the skin. He had no idea what it was, they had refused to tell him. He half-heartedly hoped that it was a poisonous fruit that would kill him, but he knew that would be too good to be true (though if it was he would forever thank them in the afterlife). And so, with nothing left to lose and nothing really to gain, he bit into the fruit.

It was rotten, like it had been waiting for him since the day he was born a millennium ago. He had to choke it down as he ate it, and even when he had just taken a bite out of it, he refused to leave the fruit to waste so he ate it all, even if it was disgusting.

Nothing happened for ages, and so he just sat there, remembering the words they had told him. _Eat the first fruit that has bloomed, and never eat another again._ It sounded like something bad would happen if he did, and with how smart they were it would probably lead him to a terrible death. But since he could not die he figured he wouldn't bring another scar onto his skin that no one but him could see.

A lot of time had passed by since then. If he had to guess it would have been near 700-900 years since the world started up again. He learned a lot of the fruit he ate. Apparently they gave the eater a special ability. The one he had eaten was what they had classified as zoan. He was a phoenix now and forever more, and he couldn't help but think of the ironic situation. A phoenix was immortal, and the fruit had been eaten by someone who already was. He guess the best thing was that he could fly once more, even if it was not like how he used to be. And in return for this ability, he could no longer swim. He was fine with that. He would much rather have the sky than the sea.

As time passed his memories blurred and faded. The name he threw away he could no longer remember. He could no longer remember the faces of his dear friends, the people he had considered family for the ten years of his early life. The only thing that remained of the person he had been were the fears and the teachings and abilities he had learned. The constant fear of being hurt and the need to finally find peace never went away, the loneliness he dealt with was always there and he couldn't remember what it felt like to be happy. He remembered a war he wanted no part of. He remembered to never put his trust lightly and to always be on guard. But the reasons behind those thoughts and instincts were gone, faded into the wind as if it was nothing but a passing thought.

Fifty more years passed when he met the man that changed his view on life. He remembered walking down the street of a no-named island that he couldn't bother to remember and going to get a drink. He remembered the man who came to sit by him was tall and had the smell of the sea about him, much like he himself smelled of the sky and the wind. He had asked a simple question, a question that would forever change his life. Of course, it wasn't until later that night he had asked it, after they had both gotten semi-drunk and got to know each other did he ask.

 _"Join my crew. Become my son."_

He had stared at him, wide eyed, and asked him if he had had too much to drink. It took him forever to agree, took the man he now called his father (even though he was much, much older than him) almost three months to make him see that he wasn't just going to disappear or betray him. That he wasn't going to be afraid of what he was.

And that's it. He had become one of his sons.

Only there was one problem. He didn't have a name.

When he, the man he would follow to the ends of the earth, had asked his name, he had responded he no longer had one. And then he gave him a name.

Marco.

It was simple, it was nice. It was common name but not so common that it wasn't unique.

He had smiled, a true smile that he hadn't been able to wear for who knows how long.

Whitebeard, the man he called Oyaji, gathered more and more sons and daughters. Their little makeshift family grew and grew, and it didn't stop. Whitebeard was the father, the captain of the crew, and he the oldest brother, the first mate, and was a constant figure that was always two steps behind and one step to the side of their captain.

He could no longer remember who he had been, who he was or what his family had been like, but it no lingered mattered. He had made one with the man he saw as a father, he built his personality and any resemblance to the man he once was were gone long before he decided to become his son. The black hair that was like a rat's nest had turned to a nice punk-rock blonde long ago, and his startling green eyes had faded to blue, the color of the sea and sky for that was what he was. His soul, his home, was always to the sea and his family were children of the ocean.

He had everything he had wanted, and while he was still trying to figure out how to end his life one day, it was no longer that desperate need he couldn't ignore. His main purpose here was for his family, and him ending his life was a side job now a days.

He met his youngest brother, and lover, after a new era had risen. He had come to take his father's head, like so many before him, and had become his son after months of trying to kill him. He finally confronted the boy, telling him it was now or never, and in return the brat had asked him a question.

 _"Why do you call him Oyaji?"_

It was a simple question, and yet it meant more than anything to everyone on board. He had already known the answer before he had said it though. Because he had went through the same thing, but at the time no one had been able to give him an answer.

 _"Because he calls us his sons. It might not mean a lot to outsides, but to us, the outcasts of the world, it makes us happy to have a family, a place to call home."_

Because it means we have a place to belong, even if the world is forever against us.

Even if time never lets us rest.

He never said these words to the boy, never wanted his family to hear his sores and to see his wounds that he would forever carry for while he could not scar on the skin, it never meant they weren't there.

 **Words: 3052**

 **Pages: 5**

 **Completed on 8/4/2015**


	2. Chapter Two: Love

**A Phoenix Never Dies**

 **Summary: Alive before the Void Century, cursed with immortality long before he ate his fruit, Marco the Phoenix, once known as Harry Potter in the early ages in which no one remembers anymore, travels the ever changing world in which he is an outcast. A Harry is Marco fanfiction. Immortal Harry. Immortal Marco. Pairings: Ace x Marco or Ace x Harry!Marco, whichever you prefer**.

 **Chapter Two: Love**

Marco had been alone for a long time. While he had a family surrounding him and a father figure he could look up to, it didn't make himself any less alone in his mind. He had always kept his distance from everyone, kept them at arm's length and away from any damage they might have done to his heart. At the end of the day, no matter how many people surrounded him and made him smirk and chuckle and worry, he was alone.

He knew there was once a long time ago where he craved the acceptance and love of others, knew there was once a time where he knew what true companionship was. It had been decades though, so many centuries had passed that his memory had long since faded and the ones he held so close where forgotten. He accepted that he would never find the closeness he once craved as a child with another human being for he knew that it would be like a blink of an eye before they were six feet under the land he walked on. Time flew too fast for him to not make it seem like a fleeting moment.

So with that understanding that he would forever live and not be able to find a closeness he once craved so badly for, he grew afraid of it. He was terrified that he would find something like that and lose it within the blink of an eye because he would not be able to follow them when their time came. And since he had no fear of dying, it was replaced with being forgotten. He was petrified with fear at the very thought of being forgotten when he finally did find a way to die. If he managed to find a way to end this long lasting life of his he, at the very least, wanted to be remembered by someone.

He wanted to make sure he didn't fade into the void like so many great people did.

Oyaji could sense this deep fear within him, could tell at a glance that the connection to someone who would die before him and forget him was his greatest weapon against himself. It didn't matter how many brothers and sisters that came aboard and made friends with him, they knew something was off when he would stare at the sky and the sea but never really knew what had bothered him so much.

And then Ace was suddenly _there_ , looking at him with eyes so clear and staring at him so much that it felt like he could see into his very soul and into his _heart_.

It frightened Marco more than anything before.

He tried to stay away from the being that seemed so intent to stalk him wherever he went. He kept his distance and was always kind but firm when speaking to him in any way unless the situation called for it. He was professional in every way when speaking to the younger man and kept out of his way most of the time and didn't bother him unless it warrant it.

Marco didn't seem to be able to get rid of Ace no matter what though. 

Ace had no idea why he was so fixated on the first division commander when all the older male did was avoid him at all coast. It was like this since the first time they had met; not even that truthfully. Ace had been close to borderline obsession since the moment he laid eyes on the blonde. He didn't know why he constantly searched for the other man in his free time nor did he want to know. He was enjoying being in the other's company, but apparently Marco didn't feel the same.

At any point of the day when they were together Marco kept his distance and spoke politely and with a blank face with cold eyes on at all time. Marco never once touched him in any way, shape, or form to relay he had any interest with the younger man and yet Ace couldn't seem to forget him in any way.

When Marco finally did touch him he was in threat of falling overboard and Marco had grabbed his hand before he could go over the railing. And when he had Ace felt his fire coil in his belly and warm him, sparks flying from his finger tips and a desperate need to hold onto this warmth that was right in front of him because it felt like he was never going to see it again. He wanted to grab hold of his flame and never let go because if he did his fire would be lonely and cold and he couldn't stand the very thought of letting anyone else having it besides himself.

It was no longer just an _obsession_ , it was a part of his very _being_ to watch where ever the blonde went.

He saw Marco's devil fruit three months later, and he was _lost_.

It had been during a fight with an admiral and fifty battleships on the opposing side. The admiral had gone for Oyaji's head and suddenly Marco isn't the _Marco_ he knows and he can't help but want to back away because this Marco will tear his enemies a part and didn't need any distractions. The blue flames are suddenly _there_ and he can do nothing but watch as the cool and collected first division commander is turned into a raging beast that can't be caged and wants blood more than anything, and he wants that blood to be spilled on his hands because he won't be satisfied for any other reason.

And then he transforms and Ace is so _entranced_ that he doesn't notice that the battle is already won because he's too busy staring at the being in front of him that is ensnared with bright blue and golden _flames_.

It's no longer just an obsession nor a part of his daily routine, _he's in love_ and _can no longer think_ about anything else but the Phoenix that just burned his spot into Ace's heart.

It's a week later that Ace is finally able to see something besides the cold front and what he sees is enough to break his heart into pieces before remembering that Marco would kick his ass into the ocean if he pitied him and not let anyone fish him out. What he saw was a man that was shattered and his trust in others destroyed and his heart scarred with gashes that were done with horrible healing and an equally horrible patch up. But he also saw a man that was willing to keep going on with the heavy wounds that should have killed him for his families sake, just so they wouldn't be left alone.

And suddenly when Marco turns to Ace his eyes are no longer _a cold icy blue_ he had known until this point but _a warm blue_ that can make _the sea and sky green with envy_.

He doesn't know how it came to be like this, doesn't really remember who made the first move but suddenly they're kissing and fire is dancing around them and Ace can't thank whatever deity out there _enough_ for letting him talk to Marco in his room about it because then they would have been interrupted before they could even start. Marco's strong, warm hands are _everywhere_ and for _once_ in his life he truly feels _safe_ and _loved_ and _knows_ that he is feeling the same way because he can see it in his eyes and feel it with every _move he makes_.

He feels like he's suffocating and never wants to breathe because if he does he fears this will break and he won't ever be able to get this moment back. He wants to claw his way into Marco's heart and _never let go_ because he had long since decided that Marco was _his_ and he wasn't going to go anywhere because he couldn't bear the thought that anyone else would have his place. Marco was _his_ flame and _his_ fire, Marco held his heart and if he was right then he wasn't going to give it back anytime soon unless _Ace himself_ asked and he would _never_ do that because it would mean that he no longer wanted Marco and that was _never going to happen_. He wanted Marco for the rest of his life and after because _goddamnit nothing else mattered_ to him more than he did.

But it was like Marco said, the time they had together was gone within a blink of an eye because not long after Ace was going after a traitor that nearly killed his brother and he couldn't stand for that to go unpunished.

He never saw the way Marco eyes had darkened after he left, nor did he see the tears he had held back in front of everyone.

Because if he had stayed one more day he would have seen the scars that suddenly appeared on Marco's body that no one could see thanks to his clothes that covered them.

He would have seen the scars of a man that had tried to kill himself.

After Ace had went to go hunt down the bastard Blackbeard (AN: which personally ticks me off because neither BB nor WB have beards!), they healed their brother and continued on with life, waiting for their youngest to return home. They didn't notice anything wrong with the first division commander, didn't really register his shakiness and tired eyes that grew more pronounced as the days wore on. Of course they all noticed but all of them thought it was worry for Ace, and while it might have been true it wasn't what was causing him agony.

Because every night since Ace had left the ship one by one his injuries reopened itself, slow enough to be healed by his devil fruit power yet fast enough to feel the pain as well as the scars to settle hard enough to be there but not hard enough to see from a distance.

Whatever the reason was, his immortality was fading, and he couldn't imagine a more worse time for it to do so.

Ace had just been captured by Blackbeard, and sent to Impel Down.

War was coming.

 **Words: 1726**

 **Pages: 3**

 **Completed on: 8/15/2015**


	3. Chapter Three: Pain

**A Phoenix Never Dies**

 **Summary: Alive before the Void Century, cursed with immortality long before he ate his fruit, Marco the Phoenix, once known as Harry Potter in the early ages in which no one remembers anymore, travels the ever changing world in which he is an outcast. A Harry is Marco fanfiction. Immortal Harry. Immortal Marco. Pairings: Ace x Marco or Ace x Harry!Marco, whichever you prefer**.

 **Chapter Three: Pain**

He never felt so helpless in his life.

He watched as his siblings died around him while he was unable to do anything because he could barely move with the blasted seastone handcuffs on his wrist. He could hear their hearts slowing down and not being able to do anything to stop it even as Ace ran with his younger brother towards the sea. Then Oyaji almost said those damned words, but before he had he had seen the glint in Marco's eyes and knew that he couldn't rid himself of this world yet because the Whitebeard Pirates would suffer a defeat they may not recover from.

He had felt it settle into his soul the second he was chained. He felt Fate make her decision, felt her choice settle in his bones and wrap him in a cocoon that made him want the wish he so desperately kept hidden from everyone. He wanted so desperately to grab hold of what Fate offered him but knew there was always a price because Fate didn't give things for free.

If he wanted it, he would have to do it with possibly hurting everyone he cared about around him.

He decided with the way things were going, it would be his pleasure just to see them off this thrice damned island even if he wasn't leaving it with them.

That was okay, he had long since prepared to go to Hell.

He might even welcome it over Heaven.

After all, what adventure waited him in such a place where good people went? No fun at all.

And then he saw something that made his heart stop cold and his world stop for an instant before he was moving.

Because Ace, _Ace;_ the one they had come to save, was in threat of _dying._ And in front of him was an imagine that was _not_ going to happen even if he had to relive how he should have died more than a billion times. No one was getting close to _his_ flame that was so afraid of the darkness that had, and still is, surrounding Marco to make Ace feel the same way. He remembered that _fear_ , _remembers_ the hatred that came with the darkness because you thought you weren't worth anything to the people around you and all you wanted was to _protect them_ even if it meant losing everything in return. The darkness ate at you until you were _nothing_ but a _mindless puppet_ and willing to die on a _whim_ for those who tried to play _god._ And it was more likely that _Hell_ would freeze over before they got to his flame that shouldn't be anywhere near the disgusting matter.

And in that instant he knew he could never have been _happier_. Because even as his _pride_ was burned out of his chest, even as his organs were burned into _mush_ and the screams of his siblings _rang_ in his ears, he knew the reason why he had to stay alive for so long in weight crippling _agony_ for more than a millennium. When he had stood in front of his wife's grave and waited and _waited_ for something he could not know, he had been waiting for Ace because it didn't _matter_ how many relationships he took up, Ace was the _only one for him_ and while his wife was his best friend so _long_ ago, she was not _the love of his life_ and _never would_ _be_ because that spot in his melted heart was taken and could _never be given back_.

When he looked into the eyes of his soon-to-be killer for the first time he couldn't help but feel a _burning_ hatred because while he was grateful for the end of his time on this world he had _tried to put out his fire_ and _that was_ **not** _okay_. His phoenix raged and thrashed because even it knew that if this bastard didn't come with them into the next world he would go after his family and he would go after Ace until the day they both died. And as Marco, as the first division commander as the Whitebeard Pirates, as Ace's lover, as a Phoenix, he could not allow that and he no longer gave a _damn_ about the ability that was lost in time and that no one was able to use it anymore because this would get them all _out_ of here and leave _him behind_ because he wouldn't be leaving with them.

So he spoke the last words to strike fear into his enemy because his last words were going to be for his _family_ and making sure they left him behind because it was _too late_ for him and even though his phoenix was sad, both of their times had long since run out and it was time to go on to the next world where he would wait for them and had people waiting for him.

Because it was time to say goodbye to the only people he had ever known to show unconditional love for him.

"Did you know…" he could literally feel the stares in the back of his head and the screams that weren't in the air in his head and couldn't help but think _goddamnit why are you just standing there? Leave!_ as his voice echoed around the battlefield because even they could tell something wasn't right. "…that when a phoenix dies, an era ends?"

Akainu, the red dog of the marines, looked at him and asked if he was breaking under the pressure of dying. Marco chuckled, because he could no longer laugh without large amounts of blood overflowing his ability to speak and he would need it to bring this dog's end. And he whispered, though he might have shouted it because anyone with ears could hear it, that he had waited for his death for more than five hundred thousand years, he could wait a few minutes longer.

"And when a phoenix is reborn, a new era begins. I'm not about to let you enter the new era. You'll die in this one."

And then everything is a blur and he's shouting at the person he called Oyaji to leave and take care of his siblings because he is no longer able to because he's an old man and that he is still a brat and he'll damn the entire world before someone younger than him is killed because while he might have seen him as a father he was also his son in a twisted way that probably would never make sense to anyone but him. And then he's leaving, with everyone on board and the lava bastard is right _there_ and almost looking ready to rip past him to get to the others and he speaks the words that were burned into his mind the moment he was born because it had always followed him. Green light crackle at his fingers and his palm and he can't help but wonder if the blue eyes that he has had for more than a hundred years is back to the green that bare a resemblance to the very curse that is able to leave his lips because he's going to go in flames as he dies taking out another person that could harm his family.

 _"Avada Kedavra."_

Ace can do nothing but watch as the love of his life bursts into blue flames that are different because it means it's the end and he can't watch but he must because he has to memorize everything as his beautiful bird _dies_ so he doesn't forget him for even a moment. He forces himself to watch because there's still that loving look in his eyes that he can see even from here that is for Ace and no one else and the smile that lights up his face, for once no longer stressed and pained but one of _peace_ as if he had never known it before in his life as he goes up in flames and his opponent dies in a flash of green light and he can hear the screams around him crying because Marco is gone and he has always been there with his tired eyes and weary smile and his calm presence and they can't _believe that he just died_.

When he comes out of it they're miles away from the battlefield and everything is calm even if the air is filled with sadness and heart wrenching pain that can never heal because the only person who can heal it is the person who caused it. And when he searches through their _(never his, because it's theirs and_ nothing _is going to change that)_ room for anything that Marco left behind. He finds a journal that is old and ragged and so torn up that it's not hard to believe that it's more than a hundred years old. And then he opens it because _goddamnit_ there might not be anything closer to him than what is inside this book that's clearly in his handwriting.

And so he reads. 

_Entry One:_

 _I have no idea what has happened to me. I have stopped aging, cursed to look the age of twenty five forever. I have seen the looks they send me, I have seen the looks of disgust and mistrust even as they try to desperately to hide it behind a smile that's not real. I have to watch as my younger wife grows older and as my children have children, getting older and not stuck in time. I have to wonder, what have I done to deserve this misery? I have played the part of a puppet for Fate, I have dealt with everything she has thrown at me, and yet she repays me with an ability I do not want. Please, someone, kill me._

 _Entry Twenty:_

 _They have betrayed me. The people that were my friends, my family that I built with my own two hands, were never on my side. I could have dealt with the fact they just wanted money or power, but they knew what I fear more than anything. I'm an idiot to trust easily and give my heart to someone who acts as if they want my best interest when really I am just a useless tool that has played the part in a play. I hate them._

 _Entry Forty-Eight:_

 _I have watched my 'friends' die all around me, I have watched as they have turn their backs on me in fear of what I am and I have watched the world change in so many ways that I cannot recognize it any longer as the world I was born into. Its hurts to know that in this world of mine that no one but I can understand that I am alone. I have decided that one hundred years is enough for me, more than enough and that I am ready to die.  
_ _Entry Eighty-Nine:_

 _I tried and I tried and I tried but no matter how many time I slash at myself nor how far I fall my skin heals itself, the bones mend back together and blood pumps faster to get more into my system. I have tried to drown myself, I have torn my limbs apart and slowly tortured myself with starvation in hopes that it would end. I have done everything to join the others in the afterlife but it doesn't matter because I can never die when the only thing I want most is my suffering to end. It's a curse and I wish for just once that something would come my way in life so it doesn't just fuck me up later._

 _Entry One-Hundred and Twenty-Eight:_

 _I have come to the realization that I cannot die. I have a purpose here and I need to fulfill it before I die. The problem is that I have no idea what I am supposed to do. I am waiting and waiting but Fate has told me it is not time yet and it will me so long before it is. So I have decided to learn everything in hopes that when it does come I will be ready. I have learned everything that might and might not help me in the future, and I can only hope that it is enough when the time comes._

 _Entry Three-Hundred and Fifty-Two:_

 _Dear Who Ever This May Concern,_

 _I am sorry that you have had to sit through my rambling without a proper introduction or an explanation. I guess I should start, but remember my memories have faded with time. I no longer remember names or faces, just the story and the emotions behind it. I have no idea why I have suddenly decided to tell you, why I am writing in the first place. I can't even be sure if anyone is reading this and not just rotting away with the passage of time. I guess, before I forget even the story, I need to tell it so I'm not completely gone._

 _The world has ended, but that doesn't matter much to me though. My world ended when I was twenty five, I only realized it when I was fifty. The world I lived in is probably very different than yours. We're a time where the world is more land than water. I guess I should tell my story from the beginning. I was destined to die before I was born, a mass-murder was sweeping the land in hopes to kill everyone he didn't deem worthy to live. After my parents were killed, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle, spiteful people who hated what was different than the normal. There I was raised as a slave, hating myself as well as them. When I turned eleven I was given a chance to be away from them, away from the 'normal' that never fit me. I gained friends, and those friends became my family. But every summer I was sent back to those people, while they schemed the next role in my life. I killed the mass-murder at age seventeen, and moved on with my life, marrying my best friend's little sister. As everyone grew older around me, I stayed the same. I did not age, I did not die, and they grew afraid of me. I watched over what remained of my family until the end came, and that's when I learned the truth. The friends that I had weren't friends, but puppeteers who ruined my life. And even after so long, after the anger as burned out and the hatred as turned to embers, I still cannot forgive them. I cannot forgive them for breaking my trust in people. And if you haven't already guessed, I am immortal._

 _Entry Four-Hundred and Seventy-Three:_

 _This world is bright and full of water, so very different from my time. I have gained friends and allies in the people who have called themselves the Clan of D. They have taught me what they know, the language they speak. And I cannot be anymore grateful for them for easing my loneliness._

 _Entry Five-Hundred and Twenty-Six:_

 _The Clan of D went down in flames, with only a map in my hands to remember them by._ 'Eat the first fruit that blooms on the tree, and never eat another.' _I went to search for the tree, and found it. And just like they said, the fruit that was heart shaped, blue the base color and golden swirls lining it. I ate it, because it was the one thing I would to connect me to them. And I gained a companion, a phoenix that is always with me, has become a part of me, for all eternity until we die._

 _Entry Six-Hundred and Thirty-Five:_

 _I have decided to go on a hunt once more, a hunt for a way to die. And on that hunt, I met a man. A man that calls himself Edward Newget. Newget, a nutshell. Wonder how similar they are._

 _Entry Six-Hundred and Fifty-Eight:_

 _He has finally convinced me. After three months of bugging me, he has earned my respect and gained a first mate. I am his son, a word that not even my own father could utter before he died. It's funny, if you look at it. I am over five hundred times his age, and yet he is the father in our crew._

 _Entry Seven-Hundred:_

 _I haven't written in a while, Roger passed away twenty years ago and the world seems to be in chaos. I wonder, will the world end from just one man's words? I sort of hope so. It could be something exciting to see._

 _Entry Seven-Hundred and Twenty:_

 _A new rookie has come to take Oyaji's head, and he continues to do so. We're all just waiting for him to give up so he can join. But to be honest, I'm not sure he will._

 _Entry Eight-Hundred and Thirty:_

 _Ace…I can't describe Ace. All I know is that he is unlike anyone I have ever known. His father, his birth father, loved him more than anything yet Ace can't do anything but hate him because he never knew him. It's a sad tale all around._

 _Entry Eight-Hundred and Forty:_

 _I love him. Whether I get the chance it or not is something I won't ever know. I love you, Ace._

 _Entry Eight-Hundred and Sixty:_

 _I'm dying. The immortalty that I was granted has been fading ever since Ace left the ship two months ago. And it's the worst time. Ace, my Ace, was sentence to Impel Down._

 _Entry Eight-Hundred and Ninety-Nine:_

 _I plan to die on that battlefield, I can only hope that they forgive me._

It took more than a week to read every word Marco wrote down. His words of agony deeply touched Ace, made him want to smooth out his worries and take the ache in his stead. And by the time he was done reading the whole damn book, he had wrapped himself up in their covers and cried.

He laid in bed for hours, wrapped up in his sent because there was just _no way_ that Marco, Ace's flame, his fire, _his love of his life_ , was _gone_ and _never coming back_. He could feel the faded lips of the Phoenix, could feel the lingering hands that _caressed_ Ace's body to his. Ace could almost feel Marco's arms around him, _shielding_ him away from the world, _protecting_ him. All he wanted to do was burry his head into Marco's neck and _breath_ because he would always calm Ace down. He could smell the ashes, the ocean, the sky and pure _freedom_ that it almost hurt to be away from.

It hurts, because it didn't matter what he looked at. All he could see was the bright eyes of the sky.

And be forced to realize that freedom was no more.

 **Words: 3161**

 **Pages: 6**

 **Completed on: ...I forgot the date.**


	4. Chapter Four: Acceptance

**A Phoenix Never Dies**

 **Summary: Alive before the Void Century, cursed with immortality long before he ate his fruit, Marco the Phoenix, once known as Harry Potter in the early ages in which no one remembers anymore, travels the ever changing world in which he is an outcast. A Harry is Marco fanfiction. Immortal Harry. Immortal Marco. Pairings: Ace x Marco or Ace x Harry!Marco, whichever you prefer**.

 **Warning! SMALL LEMON THAT DOES NOT GO INTO THAT MUCH DETAIL IS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER!**

 **Chapter Three: Acceptance**

Two weeks.

It had taken two weeks.

And he had never felt more alive when those two weeks were up.

Finally, the curse that Fate had given him was up. Time had finally allowed him to move on, to die. It was refreshing, it was like finding something you never knew you were missing. He would get one more life span, and then it would all be over. A new phoenix would be chosen to enter and guide this world, and he would finally be laid to rest once it did.

He didn't really remember the two weeks in which he died. All there were was a darkness that enveloped him, coursing through his veins as it renewed his body, his very soul. It breathed in life within every cell, his nerves on heighten senses and adrenaline pushing through his limbs. It felt like he was in a bath of fire, one that soothed away his worries and pains, one that healed the scars on his skin and made him a new person who had never went through such hardships and battles. A weight lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe and his doubts seemed to melt away, a smile working its way on his face even without his knowledge.

It felt like he was home.

Distantly he heard a bell being rung, calling him over and over again with barely any stops in between. He felt something stir in his mind, something that was telling him to _open_ his eyes and _wake up_ to the world because he had _one_ more job to do before surrendering himself to the fire that made him feel so _alive_. But he couldn't open his eyes because then this feeling would leave him and he was afraid he would never see it again. He wanted to stay curled up in the darkened fire, being comforted by the flames that licked at his skin.

He didn't want to leave.

Still, the bell called him, now on the eight ring. He felt the fire, the fire that had always been with him, move ad shift, conveying the message that it did not want to leave him as much as he did, but it needed him to wake up because it wasn't time yet. _Soon_ , it seemed to whisper. _Soon you can come back_. And then the fire exploded behind his eyelids into reds and oranges and yellows, and suddenly everything came back into the focus and all he could think of was _Ace_. He could only picture Ace and nothing else and there was a desperate _need_ to get back to the brunette, to hold him tight and promise never to leave his side again because Ace couldn't imagine a life without him as much as he could imagine a life without Ace.

He had to leave.

He had to get to Ace.

He had to go home.

The sixteenth ringing of a bell called him, and his eyes opened.

He did not recognize the place, there was no signs of civilization around him to speak of and only the flora and fauna occupied the island. He searched for food first and found a small cave big enough to house him while he got his head together.

His chest, his pride, was still there in the purple ink and without a scar on it. It still stood out against his tan skin, his muscles still seemed define. While his clothes were burnt, his pack that he kept in his pocket at all time was not damaged, nor was his anklet. He would have to go shopping for new clothes at this rate because he couldn't show his face to his family without them worrying he was about to die at the slightest movement.

So he would bide his time, he checked his abilities, his memories, finding that even though he had died he was still the same even if he was no longer immortal. He had found out in an incident about two days after waking up here and found he no longer healed like before, but it was now his fire that healed him. He was ashamed to say that he almost died that day simply because he had gotten use to nothing being able to kill him. It would be the ultimate blunder then, being killed after you had come back from the dead.

It was about a week or so after he woke up that he got what he needed and headed towards the rumored destination of the Whitebeard Pirates.

He was going home.

It was harder than normal to find them as they weren't on an island, but rather on the ocean where there was no magnetic current leading him to them. It was really annoying because then it took even _longer_ to find them. But he finally did, landing on the railing right before dawn when no one was up and the time where most watchers were too busy changing posts to notice anything out of the ordinary. And there he waited for the others to arrive, his black cloak around him and his hood up, wondering if they would still welcome him even after he had taken so long to get back. 

It had been two or three weeks since they lost their first division commander, their first mate, and no one was taking it well. Whitebeard tried to keep it together, and he did to some extent, but no one was willing to take up the absent spot of the first mate, hoping beyond hope that he would return even though it was impossible to come back from the dead.

The commanders ran their divisions well for the most part, the workload being managed in a suitable manner. But then problems would come up, responsibilities they weren't use to and would have usually gone to Marco for help with. And then halfway to his room they would remember he was no longer there.

It was heartbreaking, their older brother who they had always relied on, was no longer there.

But the person who took it the hardest was the youngest brother.

Ace.

He kept up with his duties as the second commander, and did whatever was needed of him, but that light that shown so brightly was no longer there. The smile that lit up the night sky and lifted their sorrows never showed itself, and when he didn't have duties to do, he would hold up in his, _their_ room and sit there for hours, not really paying attention to anything. And late at night, when his memories were the strongest and his presence felt so real as if he was really there, he would cry. He wrapped himself in their covers, pressed one of his jackets to his face, his scent all around him and tears would leak through closed eyelids. His eyes got darker as the days passed from lack of sleep, and the more miserable he got when he looked at the sky because the sky had belonged to Marco and no one will be able to feel that freedom again because no one held as much spirit as Marco. No one _knew_ as much as Marco, no one had felt _freer_ than him and no one ever would because the _sky belonged_ to Marco and Marco alone. And Marco belonged to the sky, where he forever would.

And while he was up in the sky, Ace couldn't follow because he was stuck on the ground.

It was three weeks after the war when a commotion happened on deck, the commanders being called as well as the captain for the problem and the other crewmates behind them because they didn't know how to deal with the threat of an enemy that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

And there, on the far side of the railing, was a figure that crouched on the white wood with black hiding him with a newspaper in his hand, the newspaper from almost a week ago. When Luffy rang the Ox Bell at Marineford. It hung loosely in his grip, and though they couldn't see his face or any of his features, they could tell he was looking at them.

"Who are you?" Oyaji demanded, his voice leaving no room for defying him. It didn't seem to faze the man though.

"Sorry old man, but it seems like Fate has already chosen who will find it." His voice, while familiar, was out of their grasp to make a connection to this person in front of them and who they had might possibly have known. He stared at the newspaper for a moment longer before he let the paper go, the pages flowing in the wind, disappearing with a sigh from his lips.

"Who are you?" he repeated, curiosity in his gaze.

"Didn't I tell you old man? When an new era starts, a phoenix is reborn." It was a simple statement, nothing to reveal his identity yet it answered their question without giving anything up. Because the words on the battlefield almost a month ago rang in their heads, their first division commander telling that damned red dog that he wouldn't be following them into the next era.

"Marco…" it was almost in disbelief, no, it _was_ disbelief. Because here, in front of them, was the man that they thought was dead for almost a month, sitting here as if he wasn't gone or hadn't died. But still they were afraid. What if this was some cruel joke from Fate that was sent to play with them? They would kill the person if it turned out to be false.

The next moment dispelled all doubt though. With a raise of his hand he tore off his hood and let his coat hang open. And there he was, the same blonde hair, the sky blue eyes, the tanned features, and a lopsided grin in place. His chest still bore the mark of Whitebeard, as if the injury that killed him never happened and this past month was just a nightmare that they haven't been able to wake up until now from.

Because the person who stood in front of them was _Marco,_ their brother.

"Sorry I've been gone so long."

And then Ace, who has snapped out of shock faster than the others, rushes forward and tackles the blonde onto the deck, his arms wrapping around him and never letting go because even if it is just a dream he doesn't want to wake up because Marco is _here_ and _alive_ and _real_. Ace holds him tight because the very thought of letting go is unbearable and he doesn't think he could because it would mean he was okay with letting go and he's _not_. He never will be.

Ace feels arms wrap around him, comforting him, letting him know that he is there and alive and not going anywhere. And for the first time in three weeks he cries into Marco's shoulder because he was so _scared_ and _didn't know what to do_ and will _never_ know what to do and _never to leave_ him again because it was so _lonely_ and he felt as if he had _died inside_ because Marco was _no longer there_. And he answers in his lingering touches, promises unspoken, that will never be broken, that he won't leave and will always be there for him. It's a promise that he isn't going anywhere without him and will stand by his side for the rest of their life. It's a declaration of the words that he never got to say to Ace before then, a silent _I love you_ that made Ace choke because he could literally _feel_ the raw love that the blonde held for him and it made him breathless.

It was all okay now. Marco was _here_ , everything would be fine.

A party is held, Ace never leaving Marco side with his arms wrapped around the blonde's waist, said blonde with an arm thrown over the fire's shoulder. They can see the changes within the blonde. They're small, almost unnoticeable, but still there.

The lingering darkness behind his eyes are gone, the pressure that was on his shoulders has been lifted, and his smile so much brighter. It was as if Marco had been dead inside until then and until recently he was just beginning to live his life. It made them happy, Marco was finally free from the chains that kept his captured. He was free to fly and never come down until he wanted to. He was finally allowed to live.

After everyone was passed out with only Marco and Ace left sober, they retreated to the back of the deck, arms wrapped around one another as they embraced. Ace left kisses on his neck, his hands trailing down his body to prove that he was real and not going anywhere. He wanted to make sure that this wasn't a dream and when he woke up the next morning it would be a harsh wake up call to find out this was all a dream and it would leave him with wounds that wouldn't heal. And Marco allowed him to trace every muscle, let his hands wander because he knew the feeling of possibly never being able to see the other again, knew the terrifying thought of this all being a dream. So he allowed him to be dragged into their room, nothing changed in the time he was gone until now.

Ace wrapped his arms around Marco's neck, his lips desperate for the contact he hadn't had in months. He gave in easily, being just as desperate if not more so for the contact. Ace wanted him to take control, wanted to feel as if nothing had changed in the time they were away from one another. His hands traced every crease in his body, every line as they kissed. Marco tugged at their clothes, his shirt the first to come off followed by them kicking off their shoes. Tongues pushed their way into mouths, teeth clicking together in the attempt to get even closer.

Soon they were tangle within one another, Ace's legs wrapped around Marco's waist, pushing their cores together because that's what they needed more than anything. They needed to feel the other surrounding him, filling him, so they know that this isn't just a dream that will turn to sorrows the next morning. They needed the physical connection they both craved, the feeling of that they had never left and the scars that had been imprinted on their hearts to heal.

Marco carried him over to their bed, caressing his body, leaving kisses everywhere and not letting a single part of him untouched. It went on like this for what could have been for minutes or hours, but then Ace felt a burning _need_ in him that told the flame user he couldn't wait any longer and _needed_ the phoenix in him, _needed_ to _feel_ him in _every way_ because he was so desperate that he would lose him if they didn't. Marco complied easily, feeling the same instinct take hold of him as he kissed the flame user, making sure he couldn't think of _anything_ but _him_ as he shifted their hips to align. And before Marco could slowly push their hips together, Ace slammed down on him, making them both cry out from the sudden movement.

Ace couldn't have waited though, couldn't have let him take his time because he _needed_ him and needed him _now._ He felt Marco fill him, felt his whole being accept the blonde wholly and pressed against him further, needing the contact more than anything in the world. After a few brief seconds Marco started to move, hitting the perfect spot over and over again even as he continued to kiss Ace like it was the last moments on Earth. Ace clawed at his back, relishing in the fact that he could lay mark to him in such a way that no one else could.

Hours later, when they were exhausted and had made love for so long, they just laid there, listening to one another's heartbeat and breathing, Marco still in Ace and had no protest of staying. Their arms and legs tangled together, making it hard to tell where one began and ended. They laid there for hours, breathing in one another's scent and sweat, making it permanent in their minds for they never wanted to lose this feeling of wholeness ever again.

And then Ace pressed his face in the crook of Marco's shoulder and neck, and cried with relief. Marco tangled his hand into Ace's black locks, trying to comfort him in the only way he knew how by pressing him closer to the older man. It helped, because soon after he was able to speak proper sentences and not just blabber like he was trying to do a moment ago. He still kept his face his Marco's neck, his arms around his shoulders even as Marco re-positioned them so his own arms were wrapped around Ace' back to hold him closer.

"Why? Why did you do something so stupid? Why…why did you die?" he said through his heartbroken sobs that utterly broke his heart. "Why did you die…for me? Why didn't you just let him get to me instead?" But Marco wasn't going to let Ace doubt his worth, wasn't going allow him to think he should have been the one to punch through instead. Because if Ace had been punched through, he would have been forever lost. Marco had a chance to come back, however small, but Ace didn't.

"Ace, look at me," Marco commanded, Ace's face turning to him in response. "It wouldn't have mattered if I had been punched through or not-" Ace tried to break through, but Marco pushed on. Ace had to understand it was hopeless for him since the beginning. "I was dying Ace, my time had run out. If I hadn't taken that punch, I would have died on the way to escape because my body wasn't strong enough to hold out. And even if that wasn't the case, I don't regret anything I did. Ace, I wouldn't have survived your death, I would have tried ten times harder to find a way to end my life and leave the crew if you had died. I did it, and would do it again, in a heartbeat because _I love you_."

Marco doesn't want to ruin the look in Ace's eyes, doesn't want that light to be clouded by anything but he has to warn him, has to get right to the situation because Ace will wonder what the answer is but never ask himself because he's afraid of the answer he might get.

"Ace, if I die this time around, if I am killed and do not heal, I won't return. If that does not happen, and the era ends before that, I will go with it. Three weeks ago was my burning day, the day when a phoenix dies. It took me so long to be reborn because no one had taken the steps to start a new era until Luffy rang the Ox Bell sixteen times. The only reason I even came back when the bell reached me was because I thought of you. There is no other reason I'm back, so don't you dare think of doing something stupid because I'll be right behind you."

But the light is still in Ace's eyes, it's brighter and seems to be _happier_ than he had ever seen it. He's smiling and looking so _relieved_ that it's hard to take his eyes off of him, and then their kissing again and he knows everything will be alright, because Ace is here and Ace means that everything is okay because they're together and that's all that matters.

And beyond the world, beyond the concept of time and reality, a woman watches down at them. Everything has finally gone to Fate's plans, and nothing was derailed this time. The woman smiles, happy with the way things have finally gone.

 **Words: 3363**

 **Pages: 6**

 **Completed on: 8/21/2015**


	5. Announcement

Dear Stars,

You apparently love this story so much, that I decided to do three things. Awhile ago I posted Finding a Phoenix, and just yesterday I have made a story called Phoenix Reborn. They all center around the same story as this one, and while FP is full of one-shots, PR is almost like a direct sequel. I know that a lot of people that follow this story, but not me, so you might not know that it's up.

My third present for you is an option. I've been twisting with the idea of re-writing A Phoenix Never Dies, and have set my mind to doing so. Would you rather have it replace this story, or be a whole new one?

Once again, if you find any Harry-is-Marco or Marco-is-Harry, please send them my way as I will love you forever for it.

If you would like a challenge, I would gladly make you one. Just pm me.

Now that my announcement is over, have a Happy New Years Eve and New Year.

Love,

Night


	6. Dear Stars

Dear **Stars** ,

I have some bad news and some somewhat good news for you guys. Depending on how you feel about me and my stories, will depend on how you take it.

Darkened Moonlight, A Phoenix Reborn, A Loss and a Gain, Cracked Eyes, Eyes of the Sun, Four Unlikely Friends, Cheshire in Jail, You Weren't Always like This, and The Book of Fate will all be re-written – hopefully somewhere in the next three or so months. Because of this, there is a chance that I will be taking down the stories for some time – whether it be the week or so before they are posted again or simply wishing for a new clean start with it. If I go for the second option, this will, unfortunately, have the side effect of no longer allowing you to follow the updates of said stories. If you are a follower of me, it will be of no issue. This is simply a warning of what could happen and not a guarantee.

That was the **good** news. Bad news it next, so be prepared.

In four days' time, I will be having surgery on my leg for the fifteenth time. I'll be spending one day in the hospital, and unless something goes horribly wrong, I will be returning the next day.

Now, this doesn't really affect you in any way. In fact, you probably don't care – and I completely understand. The next clincher is what might really slow down stories.

Along with my stories, I've taken up the task of accomplishing a lot this summer. I'm barely over a week out of school and I was so bored I made a to-do list to keep my summer productive. Many of these things probably don't consider you, but for those curious enough I'm going to quickly list them; picking up the guitar again, get my drawing skills up, get my handwriting at least somewhat presentable, and preparing myself for the AP classes I'm taking in the Fall.

The last one is the real crucial detail in getting the stories up and moving. As much as fanfiction is my life (and it is – I read it 24/7 and come up with half-a-dozen ideas every hour of a new story), it will probably not take me anywhere in the future. My goal in life is to be an animator, and as I enter my last year of high school, I'm more determined now than ever.

My first priority will always be school, and when school stops being the priority it will be my job. The second priority is art as it has been my first and only true love. My third priority is, however, my stories.

I love them, you will never know the passion and plans that I make up every time one is born. Even now, two years, almost three after the birth of _Darkened Moonlight_ I am still re-writing, re-planning, and coming up with new ideas. The ones that had been in my head even longer? They're even more so.

There is a poll on my profile, questioning which one would you like to see worked on first. I hope you vote because it will certainly keep me focused on one and not be jumping around from each story half a million times a day.

I am sorry to say that this was no an update. I'm sorry to say that it was not what you were hoping for. But I pray to the goddess that when I finally get the finished product in process you will love it as much as I do.

 **Love,**

NightHunterDeath


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